


resurge infra terra

by asweetepilogue



Series: Geraskier Octoberfest 2020 [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Buried Alive, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Well - Freeform, Whump, Whumptober, but just know, if ur into that, so there, some comfort lmao, they're in love, this could totally be read as gen, this has been done a million times but now i've done it too, will jaskier have trauma from this? probably, will we address it here? no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:55:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asweetepilogue/pseuds/asweetepilogue
Summary: It seemed the alderman had been wrong when he said that the creature’s bite killed instantly. Shame Jaskier was only figuring that out now that he was several feet under.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Octoberfest 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957933
Comments: 15
Kudos: 286





	resurge infra terra

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober prompt #4: Buried Alive

Jaskier woke in the dark.

The smell of earth was so intense it made him gag. There was a pressure all around him, crushing down on his chest and forcing him to take tiny, gasping breaths. His hands were over his face, and he pushed them away slightly, making a tiny pocket where he could pant into the damp air. Was he dead? Jaskier’s mind swirled with hazy memories - sharp fangs piercing into his shoulder, his muscles seizing, watching Geralt wave shortly as he went off in search of the local monster. Waiting at the edge of town when it started getting late. He wasn’t sure if that was all in the right order, but it didn’t seem to matter. He had a more pressing issue, namely that it seemed the alderman had been wrong when he said that the creature’s bite killed instantly. 

The cloth of the shroud - his _actual_ burial shroud, fuck - stuck to his face, and Jaskier could feel the weight of the dirt above him, pressing down heavily. The sense of claustrophobia was so immediate and intense that he wanted to retch, but he found he didn’t have the room or the air to do so. The only reason he wasn’t dead yet, he assumed, was because whatever coma-like state the aracas had put him in must not have demanded much air. He must have woken only just in time - any longer and he might have suffocated. 

He still might. His lungs burned for air. What little was left under the thick shroud with him wasn’t enough. Jaskier needed to move now, or he was going to die - actually, this time. 

_At least they already went through the trouble of burying me,_ he thought, head spinning. He was so dizzy. He hoped they’d given him a nice headstone. 

His hands pushed up against the shroud, and he could have cried when it easily parted. Northern custom dictated that the deceased be buried with their hands covering their eyes - an old elven tradition, he thought vaguely. It had protected his mouth and nose from the pressure of the dirt above, and now he used one hand to hold the shroud in place while he pawed at the ground. The dirt above him was loose, only just dumped in place, and he shoved it aside as quickly as he could. More dirt fell back in its place, but he kept going, wriggling against the pressure and using his elbow to shove as much as he could towards his toes. With each movement the earth gave a little more, but Jaskier could feel himself growing weaker. His lungs were spasming in his chest, as if he’d been underwater for too long, bathing with Geralt by the riverside. The dark, wet dirt pressed in all around him, and he was never going to get out, never, he was going to die here - 

His fingers broke through the surface. 

He must have looked like something out of a ghost tale, clawing his way up out of the ground and ripping the shroud from his face. Crisp night air flooded his chest, and Jaskier found himself choking and retching up dirt and muck. He was still half in the grave, his legs stuck at an odd angle. Slowly Jaskier pulled himself out of the ground and flung himself to the side, breathing hard as he stared up at the starry sky.

Figuring out how to get up and go find Geralt seemed like a truly insurmountable task, so Jaskier did the only sensible thing he could think of: he fainted again. 

*

When he came to again, it was to large, warm hands shaking him. Someone was saying his name rather loudly.

“Oi,” he muttered, batting at the fingers clutching his shirt. “Leave me alone, I’m dead.”

It was then that he remembered that he wasn’t, actually, so he opened his eyes experimentally. He was met by a very shaken looking Geralt, who was the one clutching his lapels. Jaskier reached up and pat his hand weakly. 

“Only joking,” he rasped, voice rough from coughing. “What’s got you all worked up?”

The witcher looked harrowed, hair falling into his face and eyes wild. Now that he wasn’t so worried about drowning on dirt, Jaskier’s shoulder pulsed with a throbbing pain where he’d been bitten by the giant arachnid that Geralt had been hired to kill. Jaskier had been explicitly told not to come along, and he’d still run into trouble. Geralt was probably pissed. 

“They said they’d buried you,” Geralt said. His fingers moved to cradle the back of Jaskier’s head, which was very nice. Maybe Geralt wasn’t angry. It wasn’t Jaskier’s fault that this happened, so he really shouldn’t be anyways, now that Jaskier thought of it. He was going to voice this, but he was very tired, and Geralt’s other hand was warm on his chest. “I thought - Arachas venom is a paralyzing agent, they said you were hit,” Geralt continued. His face was haunted, an expression Jaskier didn’t think he’d ever seen before. “I thought I was too late.”

Jaskier grunted, using Geralt’s arm as an anchor to pull himself into a sitting position. The world swam around him for a moment, but finally settled. Geralt’s hand shifted down to help keep him upright, and Jaskier was grateful for it. “Well, as you can see I did a fine job of managing that crisis on my own,” he said, giving Geralt the best grin he could manage. It probably came off all wrong, stained as his teeth were with dirt, both of them sitting beside Jaskier’s self-desecrated grave. “Sorry you couldn’t be the hero this time.”

Geralt let out a shaky breath, and then Jaskier was being tugged forward into a crushing embrace. It hurt his shoulder frightfully, but Jaskier wasn’t about to protest. “I’m just glad you’re alright,” Geralt said in his ear, soft and vulnerable. Jaskier thought about how close he’d come to not being alright - thought about what it would have been like, to suffocate beneath the earth, Geralt standing over his body knowing he could have stopped it. 

Thank the gods for shallow graves. 

“I hope you didn’t kill the alderman,” he said, still pressed against Geralt’s neck. The witcher smelled like sharp metal and the sour-sweet smell of his potions. “Though I do expect several people met an unnecessary end by his hands.”

There was a growl against his temple. “I was going to deal with him later,” and the dark tone shouldn’t have made Jaskier feel so fuzzy inside, but it did anyways. 

Eventually Geralt pulled away, brushing a bit of dirt from Jaskier’s hair. He spent a long moment just looking over Jaskier’s face, as if double checking that he was still all there. Jaskier gave him a tired smile in response, free of his usual bravado. “If you can stand to hold off the mutilation until morning,” he said wryly, “I’d love a bath.”

Finally Geralt gave him a dry smile, one that said, _The situation is much too dire for you to be making jokes, but I’ll allow it_. A true act of love, in Jaskier’s opinion. He was nothing without his humor to cope. 

Jaskier felt Geralt’s hands shift, and suddenly he was being lifted, bridal style, into Geralt’s arms. Curling into the warmth of his witcher’s chest, Jaskier let himself doze on the way back to the inn. It didn’t necessarily make up for being buried alive, but he could definitely get used to this. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! my tumblr is [asweetprologue](https://asweetprologue.tumblr.com/)


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